White Dwarf of the House of Black
by Finite Fox
Summary: It used to be this other little star, right next to my one, only it sort of died.' The unfortunate circumstances which befell Sirius the First, and what spawned the beginning of Toujours Pur.


DISCLAIMER: One of these days, I will write a disclaimer in Pig-Latin, or perhaps Cockney, or perhaps Spanish, and if the reader is unable to understand any/all of these languages, them's the brakes. I could find Jo Rowling right now, walk up to her and say, "Hello Jo, I just wanted you to know that I've written a story about the unfortunate circumstances which may or may not have befallen one of your characters, and have provided _no reference to your series at all _to indicate that we are not the same person." I bet she wouldn't send me to the slammer.

UNNECESSARY NOTE:This is just a one-shot that was inspired by that lovely little Black Family Tree that Jo Rowling (sort of) released to the fans a while back. The dates beneath Sirius the First's name kept widgeting around in my head until I wrote something about the Life and Times of Sirius (the First) and a bit of speculation on why the Blacks turned out to be such crotchety little nasties.

**White Dwarf of the House of Black**

"_Don't _call me that! Or I'll -- I'll --!"

"You'll what, Russy? Go and tell your mummy? Go on, then, baby!"

A little boy who looked to be about six years of age balled up his fists in frustration until five well-kempt nails began to bite into the palms of his hands. He did not feel remotely better about his cousin's teasing. The truth of the matter was that Mortimer Moody wasn't even a _real_ cousin of the boy whom he adressed as "Russy" -- at least, not a first cousin. Russy had once overheard Mummy -- _Mother_, the boy corrected himself furiously, _I shall not call her Mummy anymore!_ -- telling Father all about how, "The children must have proper relationships with family. My cousin has a son who must be nearly Sirius's age now. You shall have to send the owl, I'm afraid; Isla has been fussy ..."

Russy -- or Sirius, as his family called him -- was never a very good eavesdropper; the moment that he or one of his siblings were mentioned in the conversation, he would suffer a pang of guilt in his belly and be forced to close his ears to the topic. He never had liked that much. Father said it was Sirius' conscience, but since Sirius didn't know that word, he reckoned it meant he had a weak stomach.

Just now, Sirius felt the familiar pang in his gut that meant that Cousin Morty's words had struck home. Sirius had been planning to tell his mother about the name-calling he had endured, but as a flush of shame crept up his neck from beneath royal violet robes, any plans of tattling were chased from his mind.

"I wasn't going to tell my mother! You just -- just shut your mouth! You're only bigger'n me because you're older!"

Cousin Morty's chin raised significantly, and Sirius realized immediately that he had spoken precisely as the older boy had hoped he would.

"I _am_ older than you are. And not half cleverer! I don't see you getting ready for Hogwarts next year! I'll learn all kinds of spells and hexes!" For a moment, it appeared that Cousin Morty had become slightly friendlier as the subject turned to his future; certainly his smile was not as malicious as it had been a moment ago.

"It's only 'cos I'm not yet old 'nuff," Sirius grumbled, glancing at his cousin for a moment with an expression of deep envy, "I'll get mine when I'm 'leven. Still just eight an' a half." He appeared momentarily disheartened, and would perhaps have gone off in a sulk had it not been for the arrival of another boy, this one younger than either Sirius or Cousin Morty, and also significantly grubbier.

"Sirius! Mummy says to come wash up for tea, and Cousin Morty must go home for his tea 'cept the Floo s'not working so Daddy will have to fly him, and also I found this neat frog --"

"Phinny shan't get _his_ letter for another ...er... one ... three ... five years!" Sirius announced suddenly, apparently inspired by the knowledge that he would, at least, get to attend Hogwarts before his little brother would.

Phinny, who had been fishing in his robe pocket for what might have been the neat frog, paused for a moment to glower at his brother.

"I said, Mummy says come to wash up for tea, and --"

"Yes, all right, Phin! I'd heard you!" Sirius, looking slightly deflated, glanced back to Cousin Morty.

"I suppose we'd better go in, then. Father can broom you home."

Cousin Morty levelled Sirius with a distinctly haughty expression for a boy of only ten years old.

"I can fly _myself_, Dwarf!"

Immediately, Phinny's ears perked.

"Sirius is a Dwarf?"

"I'm not a bloody Dwarf!" Snarled the Sirius in question, rounding on his brother with one constrastly clean fist raised in threat.

"Sirius Wulfred Black!"

In perfect synchrony, all three boys froze. The voice that had roared all three of Sirius' names was far deeper than any of theirs, and also much angrier. Looking as though he would have prefered to remain staring in the opposite direction, Sirius Wulfred Black turned apprehensively toward the speaker.

"Come."

The 'this instant' in the command was implied. Surveying his father with a hang-dog expression, Sirius risked a glance back at Cousin Morty and Phinny, the former looking irritatingly smug and the latter appearing very nearly as regretful as, Sirius imagined, he himself did. Not daring to keep his father waiting another instant, Sirius prowled his way toward the man with his eyes cast to the ground.

-------------------

_GONG. GONG. GONG._

The sound of the old grandfather clock failed to interest Sirius, who had planted himself gingerly on his stomach in the front orchard. It was intended, Sirius knew by now, to insure that members of the Black family were able to hear the time of day anywhere on the property. Ordinarily, Sirius was very fond of the old clock; ever since he'd been taught how to tell time, he had been forever concerned with knowing precisely when he was doing things. His father had enchanted that clock especially for him. Just for Sirius.

"Russ?"

At the sound of his name, Sirius wiped hurriedly at his eyes. Despite these precautions, he did not bother to turn and face the speaker.

"Are you all right, Russ?"

It was not, as Sirius now realized, Cousin Morty. The soft voice belonged to Phinny, though his little brother had not called him by that name since he'd learned to pronounce 'Sirius' properly. It had been a while, and Sirius was wrong-footed by the sudden return of his childhood nickname.

"M'fine." Sirius mumbled thickly, swiping hurriedly at his nose with the tail of his sleeve. He sniffed once, sighed, and quieted.

"Cousin Morty's gone home. Mummy said to check if you were all right. Let's go find Ella, Sirius --"

"I don't _care_, Phin. I'm not coming with you to find Elladora, and I don't believe Mother told you anything. And anyway, I'm running away."

Phinny paused, appearing to consider his older brother carefully. One grubby hand reached up to flatten a shock of black hair, a nervous habit which he had probably picked up from Sirius.

"Running...?"

"That's right. I'm going to live with the muggles. And you can't come. Good bye, then."

Sirius, who had been struck unexpectedly with this ready-made plan, hopped easily to his feet -- for a moment he faltered, his face cringing at some fresh injury he must have forgotten -- while his brother watched on with a slack-jawed expression on his six year-old face. Sirius began to walk, albeit a bit more carefully than before, through the Black Orchard toward the line of trees that marked the end of the property's enchantments. Phinny hesitated.

"Okay," said Phinny.

"Good bye," said Sirius again.

One of Phinny's fingers went into his mouth, and he chewed on it speculatively. Faint black eyebrows knitted together in concentration. At length, he seemed to reach a conclusion. Two stockinged feet nearly stumbled over one another in Phinny's haste to follow his brother. "Wait for me, Russ! Wait!"

Sirius, apparently choosing to ignore his previous decision to prevent Phinny from tagging along, did nothing to prevent him. Only a very careful observer would have noticed the slight half-halt in Sirius' careful pace that meant he had heard his brother's plea after all.

-------------------

"Sirius, where _are_ we?"

Phinny, whom Sirius suspected had never walked so much in his young life, was becoming impatient. And try though he might, Phinny's older brother could not find it in him to blame the situation on the younger boy. This had been, after all, Sirius's idea. Phinny had only come along because ... well, he was Phinny. Phinny was always doing whatever Sirius did.

"We're in the village," Sirius repeated, for what he reckoned was the hundredth time, "I don't know what it's called, so stop asking, Phin! We haven't gone far enough out yet, there aren't any boys around here. Only tramps."

This was true. So far, the Black brothers had come across two old men dressed only in rags. Phinny had clung to Sirius' elbow until the homeless men were out of sight, but Sirius had watched them. One of them spoke to himself; something about boys in robes, and kings and princes ...

"You there!"

A voice just ahead of them had the same effect on Sirius and Phinny as their father's voice had, with the exception that Phinny shrank toward Sirius slightly, something he would surely never have resorted to at home. Ignoring the fierce pounding of his own heart, Sirius unstuck his jaw and rifled through what little knowledge of muggles he had. He'd seen Mother and Father speaking with some of the villagers before, when he was much younger and still being taken on strolls -- but never had Sirius been instructed on how to speak with a muggle by himself. He decided to be as brief about it as possible.

"Sir?"

The man, Sirius noticed, was much bigger than either he or Phinny --_ but I'm still not a Dwarf_, he ammended privately -- and he did not wear robes or a hat, as was proper. Despite his best efforts, Sirius's nose wrinkled. At a distance, the boy's grey eyes watched the man's dark ones narrow with an emotion that Sirius did not recognize.

"You the lord's boys?" Asked the man, gesturing to the clothes that Sirius and Phinny wore.

Sirius did not fully understand this question -- lord? He knew, as a boy his age ought to know, what lords and ladies were. Sirius was certainly aware that in Wizarding standards, the Blacks were considered a deeply noble and respectable family. Surely it couldn't hurt to ... anyway, he couldn't tell this man his proper surname, could he? His parents had, at least, impressed upon him the importance of keeping Wizarding families absolutely secret from muggle ones these days. It seemed perfectly sensible for Sirius to reply with a cheerful...

"That's right."

Immediately, the man's mouth twisted into a furious grimace, his yellow teeth bared. Phinny began to shiver at Sirius' side.

"The lord's ... do you know ... do you have any idea what's going on in this village, boy? Does dear old Daddy hear any of us from atop that splendid hill of his, I wonder? D'you know ... the Cholera! It's killing us! My little son, my James, he didn't ... have a ..." The man's hands raised suddenly to cover his face, a dry sob resounding from his chest. It was followed shortly thereafter by a deep, wheezing cough. And when the filthy hands lowered again, his face was twisted with a manic rage.

"Phinny," Whispered Sirius without thinking, "Phinny, run. Go home. Fetch -- fetch someone. Please go home."

The man took a step forward, his hand reaching down to pull something silver and ordinary out of his belt. Sirius wished it were a wand.

"S-S-Sirius, let's go!" Phinny stammered, trying to scamper backwards and pull at his brother's wrist all at once.

For a moment, Sirius succombed to terror. Allowing himself to be led along behind his brother, his dragon-hide clad feet began a frantic back-peddling. Phinny, satisfied that his brother had come to his senses, began to run. Sirius moved backward faster, the thought of turning his back on this man making the hair on his neck stand up with fear.

The man began to run toward them, and suddenly -- desperately -- Sirius realized they would never be fast enough.

With enormous effort, Sirius forced his feet to stop moving. Phinny glanced back over his shoulder, shouted to Sirius to hurry; it wasn't too late, they could still make it if Sirius would only _move!_

"GO, PHINEAS!"

And Phineas went. A frantic noise behind him meant that the man had reached Sirius.

Phineas closed his ears as tightly as he could and screamed as the Muggle world crashed down around his heels when he passed back through the line of trees alone.

-------------------

"We are gathered together in the shared loss of a dear, dear child ..."

Phineas sat on the cold wooden pew, a warm sister cuddled on either side of him, either of them listening to the precedings looking faintly perplexed and sleepy, respectively. The children's father sat, rigid and unyielding, to Isla's left, with their mother seated primly and wordlessly to Elladora's right. Phineas was well-accustomed to this routine; his parents were always cold, cold, cold in company.

"...the tragic result of a man's uncontrolled grief. Is there not, then, a lesson to be learned..."

Phineas's father muttered something about tasteless eulogies. Phineas did not know either of these words. Opening his mouth, he glanced over his shoulder in order to ask Sirius what they meant. When he had remembered, Phineas shut his mouth abruptly, and slowly turned to face front.

"...rather, let us forgive the men that do evil upon us, lest this cycle continue in..."

To his right, Phineas saw his mother's hand twitch, and he knew she was remembering the way that man had looked when Phineas's father was through with him. He knew she was remembering the light that had shot from his father's wand and caused that man to scream and scream and scream. He knew she was remembering the words his father had said -- the words Phineas could not recall -- that had killed the man in a flash of green, green, green.

Phineas was remembering, too. Phineas remembered the light in his brother's eyes. Phineas remembered the way the sun had reflected off the muggle's knife. The muggle's knife. Phineas had learned a great many words in the past few days, but of all the ones he had heard -- even the one his father had bellowed when Phineas had stumbled into the house screaming -- those were the two he hated most.

-------------------

"James. James. James. Prongs. Potter -- you ugly sod. _Prongs!"_

James Potter glanced up from his astronomy homework, one eyebrow raised and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose in a manner that reminded Sirius uncomfortably of Minerva McGonagall. Sirius shuddered, privately. James's other eyebrow went up.

"I'm not telling you where he's gone, Sirius. So you can bloody well stop asking."

Sirius frowned. James appeared unimpressed.

"Why should you care, anyway?" Sirius grumbled, grey eyes straying to the unfinished star-chart beneath one of James's elbows, "He's the best in our class at astronomy. If he wants to show me the chart, it's none of your --"

"He's a Cristopher Robin-ing, werewolf, Sirius! Do you think he'd be _bad_ at astronomy? And don't give me that rubbish -- he wouldn't tell you if it bothered him, would he? Anyway, here, we'll swap papers for a bit."

Sirius -- whose expression had been darkening as James continued to speak, largely due to the damnable pang of guilt that struck him in the midsection at the thought of what James was implying -- took the offering in the spirit it was intended, and threw himself a touch sulkily into the chair beside James.

"As if you'll have anything in your sodding chart that I haven't already got on mine."

James cuffed Sirius spectacularly around the head. The corner of Sirius's mouth twitched upward in the beginnings of a smile, before he fixed a scowl to his face and swapped charts.

"What's this little --"

"No, yeah, it's Scorpio -- reckon I got a bit carried away ..."

"Ah. You're missing Andromeda, hang on, I'll jot it in..."

"This is -- that's just the point, Sirius, you've just made the point --"

"...you haven't got all of Leo in there, either. Oh, nevermind; it's just Regulus missing, we'll leave him out..."

"--that you ought to be brill at astronomy with all these starry-named relatives of yours--"

"Oh, hello. Does Ursa really go there? Mine is sort of on the other side..."

"--and _speaking_ of which, Black, what's this little...this little dodgy thing next to Sirius, eh?"

"Mmm? Oh, that. Er...it's the White Dwarf."

"...Is it."

"Mmm."

"Does this -- haha, sorry, no, hang on -- does this White Dwarf actually exist, or this like your Uncle Flatulous?"

"Yes, it -- did you really believe me about Uncle Flatulous? Sorry -- no, it does. It used to be this -- because I had to take lessons on family stars and things when I was younger, but this was the only really -- anyway, it used to be this other little star...thing right next to my one, only it sort of died."

"...Ah. Okay."

"No, shut up. Stop laughing! It sort of died, and now it's this little White Dwarf, 'cos it was too bright to be a black hole, I suppose ... I can't actually remember that part. They call it 'the Pup'."

"Do they."

James grinned. Sirius lunged.

The stars disappeared in a veil of black ink and laughter.


End file.
